Crash Landings
by hannahrg
Summary: Clara convinces the Doctor to give her a flying lesson which doesn't go exactly as planned
1. Chapter 1

**AN: hi, so this is my first multi-chapter story. in fact, i'm still really anxious about posting anything here because there are so many well-written stories and i'm not adequate. so just send me loads of reviews if you like it because i have low self esteem and i need constant reassurance that people like/care about my stuff. **

**this is a really fluffy whouffle story with a little angst for all your whoufflepuff hearts. it was meant to be quite short, but it just kept going so i rolled with it. i've got it all written and i'm uploading 2 chapters a day to keep the suspense. **

**oh and i promised i'd dedicate this to *~ paige ~* because she was the one who convinced me to write this down and stuff, so yeah, hi paige**

**ok, i'll let you read now. i hope you enjoy it**

It started with the question. Or perhaps from her tone perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it as a demand. "When do I get a go at flying the TARDIS then?"

It took a few seconds for him to even realise she was addressing him and not simply muttering to herself as she went about her usual examination of the maze of switches, buttons, levers and blinking lights that made up the TARDIS' control panel. Too many seconds for Clara Oswald apparently who took his silence as a refusal.

"Please? Come on Doctor, you said you were going to let me have a go at some point when we weren't in mortal danger and I think you will find that there are not any creaturoids or Cybbots on board." She stopped and turned to face him, lips turned downward into a stubborn pout, her arms folded defiantly over her chest, "and all you appear to be planning on doing today is scanning a load of wires with your bloody screwdriver."

The Doctor didn't look up from his handful of tangled cables and continued to sonic them with absolute determination. Clara nudged at him with her elbow and he looked at her, eyes peering out over his gold-rimmed glasses, mouth crooked up at one side in a half-smile in amusement "Cybermen, they're called Cybermen."

Clara rolled her eyes at him, "I know, I just said that to annoy you, but please, give me a go at piloting the snogbox?" she clasped her hands together and held them in front of his face until he finally took hold of them and sighed an exasperated "alright, but it's _not_ a snogbox."

"Yeah yeah," she laughed and spun around to face the dashboard again, "Show me how this old thing really works". Her fingers traced over the intricate network of controls that seemed to be made up of thousands of pulleys and toggles. Her brow creased in concentration and her teeth nipped on the edge of her bottom lip just looking at it all. Then she turned to him expectantly, eyes bright and eager. The Doctor struggled for a moment, his own eyebrows furrowed, "she's not that old," he retorted.

"I can't say anything without insulting this grumpy cow," Clara glowered up at the flashing lights overhead, "But come on Chinboy, show me the stars."

The Doctor wrung his hands together, his shoulders hunched, "God help us," he muttered under his breath as she flitted about the control panel, grabbing at levers and pretending to pull them down. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled them up to his elbows revealing long, elegant arms that weren't exactly muscular, but weren't as scrawny as Clara had previously thought. She stared at them from across the console and then seeing him watching her with a peculiar expression, dropped her gaze and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Ok, well the first thing you need to do is start the ignition-" he pointed at a red lever and she tugged it downward resulting in the TARDIS shuddering to life, overhead lights flashing and engine rumbling.

She grinned at him "Good. Now, first things first, where do you want to go?" he asked.

Clara's face visibly drooped, her mouth scrunched to the side and her eyebrows lowered slightly over her eyes in deep thought. He watched her with an expression of puzzled endearment. Every time he asked that question she would struggle to come up with an answer, as though every place in the universe left her mind, leaving it a blank canvas waiting for him to colour it with his seemingly endless lists of bewilderment.

After careful consideration, Clara finally gave up and sighed, setting her head again his shoulder "I don't know" she moaned. The Doctor patted her head lightly with his hand and turned around so he could look her full in the face and tapped her lightly on the nose, "Luckily I do."

"Where?" she asked, placing her hands back onto the dashboard.

He glanced over at her as he typed in the co-ordinates and covered the screen with his hand, "It's a surprise." He said, tapping a long finger against the side of his nose.

"But I'm going to fly us there?" She asked carefully

"Of course," He returned to her side, "you're the Captain."

Clara looked up at him, her face so bright it could have been lit with stars. "That is just too cool; tell me I'm cool Chinboy."


	2. Chapter 2

"You have to follow my instructions precisely" the Doctor said gravely, "this is the most important ship in the universe and we must treat it with respect, but most of all it is very difficult to steer."

"Aye aye Sir," Clara saluted light-heartedly, and then pointing towards the controls said, "I know all this safety stuff is important it's just, can we please go now?"

"One minute, I just need to fetch something" he called over as he disappeared down the TARDIS steps and returned a few seconds later carrying what looked like two world war two fighter pilot helmets.

Clara looked at him in disbelief "what are_ those_ for?"

His whole demeanour seemed to sink at her lack of enthusiasm, "They're helmets, for safety"

Clara raised her eyebrows "Let me guess; helmets are cool? How come we don't have to wear them when you fly?"

The Doctor sheepishly glanced away and ran his long fingers back and forth over the control panel, "it's just as an extra precaution."

"Why? In case I cause a shipwreck." Her voice seemed to have gone up an octave since her last sentence.

"No, but you aren't a very good...you aren't a very experienced...you aren't used to flying." He stammered and looked at her nervously, "and the TARDIS isn't used to other people flying her, so she might be a bit...temperamental."

She screwed her face up in displeasure but mumbled a reluctant "fine" and pulled the helmet over her head and fastened it under her chin. Besides, she thought to herself, how could she explain to her dad if something did happen. It was hardly a logical explanation that she had crashed a spaceship.

"Are you ready?" the Doctor asked with the energy of a fervent puppy and a smile that was so big it almost cut his face in half.

Clara glared at him and muttered a "yes" through clenched teeth, biting the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling.

The Doctor seemed either immune to her exaggerated grumpiness or was ignoring it as he talked her through a seemingly endless list of controls "That's the steering wheel of the TARDIS if you like and that is the emergency stop button. Oh and that green light is the fuel measure, but I filled her up before I picked you up so we won't have to worry about that." He pointed to each of them in turn, but no matter how hard she tried Clara couldn't keep track. "That red one there is for soothing music and then there's the condiment buttons but I suppose we don't need those for flying. The yellow one is the stabiliser in case of turbulents and the pink is the brake on the left side and the purple is the brake on the right side."

Her mind was filled with a levers and instructions that didn't match up, but she didn't dare ask him to start again for fear of confusing herself even more, so she just watched, trying to take mental notes and chewing her thumbnail uncertainly, thankful that he would be able to help if anything went wrong.

The Doctor was rushing around the circular panel pointing and grabbing at the different devices with such the expression of an excited schoolboy, his cheeks flushed pink and eyes glowing gleefully in a way that Clara couldn't help but find adorable "and this is the landing lever, but it's a bit sticky sometimes so I suppose I'll have to do the landing just in case and this is the clutch." He finished patting a dark blue bar next to a particularly springy lever and spun on the spot to face her, slightly breathless.

She closed her eyes and nodded her head before opening them and beaming at him. She grabbed his arm and tugged him back towards the clutch and reached forward to grab it. She paused for a few moments, breathed in deeply and blew it out through her cheeks, her hand still on the bar. She ducked her head, chestnut hair spilling over her face. Clara bit her lower lip nervously and then removed her hand shakily from the control.

The Doctor rushed forward, nearly tripping over his own feet in his quest to comfort her. He held out his hands and gently cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up to face his. Clara kept keep eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"Come on Clar-ra," He said, clicking his tongue as he said her name, "you'll be fantastic. You've fought living computer viruses, a prehistoric leech and angry gods with nothing but a leaf and a chair." His thumbs traced the apples of her cheeks. Clara smiled wanly up at him softly and pushed her hair behind her ears.

"We'll do it together." He said, setting his hand next to hers on the clutch. "As soon as we pull, you press that orange button right there, ok?" She nodded, resolute.

"Geronimo" He cried as they tugged downward. The familiar whirr of machinery and din of dematerialisation started up, the blue lights flashing and wheels churned overhead. Clara laughed out loud in wonder, her eyes as round as saucers, her mouth fell open.

"Orange button Captain" the Doctor's instruction pulled her back to the present, and she slammed her hand down onto the dashboard. A sudden lurch of the TARDIS caused her fingers to slip past the orange button and to hit a small silver switch downward. Seeing what she had done, the Doctor grimaced and shut his eyes tightly in disbelief.

Clara immediately flicked it upwards again, but the TARDIS had already begun to jolt and cough, the familiar sounds grinding into rough motorized squeals. The Doctor shoved her out of the way roughly and began pulling at levers and flicking switches in desperation.

An abrupt jerk rammed them both across the room. The Doctor managed to catch himself, reaching out to the banister surrounding the control panel, and gripped onto it as he was swung dangerously back and forth. He held his hand out to Clara, but with another bump, she was thrown against the wall with such a force it caused the whole ship to tremor.

She tried to struggle to her feet but the erratic movements of the TARDIS caused her legs to give way from beneath her until all she could do was hold onto the wall behind her, her face grey with utter terror.

The panel sparked and a dark grey smog began to seep from the cogs and wheels from above. Everything seemed to be falling apart around them as they spun sporadically back and forth. The very centre of the ship seemed to emit a deep grumble of some unknown creature, as though the TARDIS itself was expressing some deep displeasure.

Another jolt flung the Doctor right onto the control panel, his long limbs flailing as he tried to steady himself and search through the field of switches to find the emergency stop. He found it and hastily pushed down on it hard.

Everything came to a deliberate halt and the sudden stability nearly knocked the Doctor off his feet. The grinding sounds ceased and the lights flickered tentatively a few times before dying out, leaving complete blackness.

"Is it over?" Clara spoke into the darkness, her voice quivering and hoarse with fear. In the still, as though to answer her question, the TARDIS whirred once and then everything was quiet.


	3. Chapter 3

Neither of them moved. Or made any sound at all. Clara knocked her head back against the wall and looked up at the inky ceiling above, her fists curled into tight balls. She felt her heart racing in her chest, thumping so loudly she thought her chest would explode.

She felt something stir in the black and blinked fevorously at the source of the movement in the hope of finding some sort of shape in the shadows. And then, in front of her, clear as the day, the Doctor's face appeared. His hands held her head and tipped in forward gently so he could kiss the top of her head. His lips lingered and then Clara felt his long fingers drop, sliding down to cup her cheeks and wipe away the tears that were falling from her eyes. They didn't stop there. The Doctor ran his hands down over her shoulders, along the lengths of her arms, giving her goosebumps. He ran the spidery fingers down until they grasped Clara's hands and squeezing them gently.

"I'm sorry." She said so quietly she was almost inaudible and he lifted his hand to her face and held it to her cheek, his fingers mapping down to her jaw line. Clara's face crumpled and warm, fast tears began to trickle down her face, leaving behind tear-stained tracks down her cheeks.

"Clara, I am one thousand years old, do you really think I've never crashed the TARDIS before? In fact, I don't think I've ever flown it completely sure that I'm not going to end up thrown out of the time vortex. What we need to do now is find out the source of the problem and we'll be up and running again before you can say...Geronimo." He leapt up, so that he was standing over her and held out a hand to her. Clara gave him a small smile and took it, wobbling a little as she clamoured to her feet.

"Doctor?" she called out, holding her hands in front of her, "Could you fix the lights first?" She felt him whip past her, nearly knocking her over. "Where are you going?"

"I'm right here. You know I'd completely forgotten, but I installed some emergency crash lights recently which can be activated by clicking your fingers?" Clara could almost see his face, his daft grin, his hair flopping over onto his forehead, "The sound it produces sends a low frequency sound into the TARDIS data web, overriding any safety precautions she put up during the crash and if I can boost the power of the click using the sonic I can increase the photons that operate in the lights, making them brighter for longer."

She shook her head at him in the darkness and watched as the green glow of the sonic screwdriver lit up his face so that it looked as though it was floating in a sea of shadows, completely separate from his body.

He held his hand up to the glow, washing it in eerie green and brushed his middle finger against his thumb. Nothing happened. Even in the dark, Clara could see his disappointment; he looked over at where she stood sheepishly, "Maybe I should have checked to see if I could actually click my fingers before setting that as the override."

She pressed her hand to her mouth, chuckling into it, her shoulders shaking with laughter, "Oh Doctor." She made her way across to where he was standing and approached with care, her hands held out in front of her like grappling hooks. The Doctor held his own hands out to her and in the black; they managed to grip at each other in a tangle of hands and fingers. Clara turned to face him; she could feel his breath warm in her face, "What if I break it again?"

He felt for her hand in the dark, wrapping his fingers around it and holding it tight, "We don't have anything to lose," he replied. He reached for the screwdriver in his pocket and flicked it on, so that it highlighted her face in the gloom. Clara raised her hand, positioning her shaking fingers and...SNAP!

The sound flew around the room, filling the room as clear as a bell, resulting in the slow glimmer of overhead lights. The light began to spread, bit by bit, little by little, until the whole room was washed in muted yellow light.

Clara watched as the room came to life again; shapes and colours emerging from the shadows. She turned to look at the Doctor who was looking down at her with an expression of what could only be described as pride and wonder. He grabbed her hand which was still held in the air and kissed it on the palm before curling each one of fingers in on it and handing it back to her. "Oh Clara, you are _beautiful." _He announced gazing up at the overhead lights and studying them as they threw honey shades all over the room.

Clara looked down at her hand and grasped her wrist, pulling it close to her chest, her face an expression of surprised pleasure. A slow blush crept up over her cheeks, turning them pink with delight. The Doctor didn't notice, too busy examining the control panel to see exactly which button Clara had clicked by accident to realise that his outburst of praise had left Clara's chest feeling warm and tingly.

"Aha!" a triumphant cry from the centre of the room brought her back to the present. She looked over to where the Doctor was standing, craning her neck to see him more clearly. He emerged holding a dusty book with yellowed pages that looked as though they would fall apart with one touch, "I knew it was in here somewhere."

"What is that?" Clara asked curiously as she made her way over to his side.

"This, my dear Clara, is our ticket out of here." He declared importantly

"Yes, but what is it?" Clara pressed, peering over at the book that looked as though it woul knock her to the floor if she tried to lift it.

"It's the TARDIS instruction manual. I suppose it's now is as good a time as any to start reading it."

Clara looked at him, eyes wide in alarm, "you haven't read the instruction manual of the spaceship you've been flying for 900 years?"

He shrugged, "I've been busy," he said opening the book and causing a cloud of twirling dust to lift up and hang in the air above like a silvery mist. Clara coughed, waving her hand under her nose and stepped back.

"Well, if you are just going to stand there reading that book and sonic-ing cables I'm going to go and look around to see if I can find something useful to do" she announced, swinging her arms and marching out towards the corridor.

"Be careful, don't wander off" the Doctor warned her before turning back to the book, screwdriver in his hand and glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"Ok grandpa," Clara called back to him over her shoulder, causing him to look up in dispute and yell a wounded "Oi" at her retreating frame.


	4. Chapter 4

She wandered down the hallway quickly until she reached the end and on impulse turned left. Here she slowed and grinned to herself before looking back to check that the Doctor was still stooped over the instruction manual. She turned back to face the long, narrow walkway lined with hundreds of unopened doors on each side of the wall. Even after all this time in the TARDIS, she had never been allowed to come further that the first corridor and if she did manage to stray off, the Doctor would always find her before she could do any proper investigation. This, instead of discouraging her as he had hoped, only fuelled her hunger to find out what lay behind those doors.

She reached towards the closest, her hand tightening on the handle as she turned it and pushed her full weight against the door. For a few seconds she didn't think anything was going to happen, but then, she felt it move, it suddenly gave way, causing Clara to fall against it and tumble into the room. She quickly scrambled to her feet, hoping that the commotion hadn't alerted the Doctor of her whereabouts.

She brushed her knees, straightened her dress and then upon looking up found herself awestruck. The view before her was utterly breathtaking. A large silver birch tree stood, pride of place in the room, its branches unfolding up and out until the whole room was filled with entwining limbs. They were lined with delicate leaves of dulled bronze and mossy shoots grew along the side of the trunk. Clara stepped forward, her neck tilted upwards towards the heavenly canopy which seemed tall enough to touch the stars.

A faint clinking sound could be heard overhead and Clara moved around the base of the birch, palms holding onto the tree as she craned to find the source of the noise. As she looked, the noise grew louder until the whole tree seemed to be positively vibrating with jingles. And then, all at once, hundreds of the tiny leaves began to break free and drift gently through the air to the floor like feathers.

Clara held out her hands to catch one, but they seemed to repel from her touch so she watched, her face alight with childish rapture.

She wanted to stay there forever, watching the birch grow and shed with the sound of bells, but a heavy thud out in the hallway urged her to retreat, closing the door behind her, shutting out the silver beam which threw light across the hall. She paused, her back to the door, wondering why the Doctor had never shown her all the wonders that lay within the TARDIS. She called out to him to check he was still where she'd left him.

"How are you getting on?"

A low grunt of acknowledgment told her he was still preoccupied.

Clara approached the next door and pushed against it firmly, her hand tight against the knob. She twisted it left and right but nothing happened and she gave up, panting slightly in defeat.

The next one was locked too. And the next. In fact Clara as made her way down the corridor, she only managed to open one other door and that appeared to be a sort of hot press for towels and extra blankets.

She leaned against it, sighing in thorough disappointment. She was close to the end of the hallway and there was only one door left. Clara walked to towards it slowly and gripped the handle tightly, sharply turning it to the right. The door clicked as it unlocked, pulling it open, Clara peered into the room.

It was full of shelves and dusty caskets. It seemed like there were hundreds of them piled up on top of each other like a giant and spectacular junk shop. The shelves were filled with papers and unusual items that Clara saw no significance. She pushed open the door wider so that she could take in the sight.

It seemed every item imaginable was in there; suitcases, hat boxes, odd socks, rotten apples with Halloween faces carved into them, old scrunched newspapers that smelt of vinegar and sand. There was a tiny model TARDIS, a baby's cradle, a long striped scarf and a technicolour overcoat, an old battered umbrella, a plain black cube, and a plant that Clara guessed was a cross between a cactus and a lotus flower. She felt as though she had stepped right outside the universe and was watching memories unfold in front of her as she watched through a window. The room filled her with a cold sadness that pressed on her heart like a sliver of ice. She touched a raggedy tweed jacket that was thrown over a thatched chair and rubbed the material with the tips of her fingers. As she brushed against the pocket, it rustled. Clara paused, looking over her shoulder and then slid her fingers into it. Her hand grasped around a carefully folded page and she pulled it out, curiously.

It was a page ripped from what looked like a rather old book; its left edge jagged and creased. Her eyes scanned the words, a visible question mark furrowed on her forehead. "This is the story of Amelia Pond and this is how it ends" she muttered under her breath which crystallised in front of her face. She shivered, pulling her cardigan tighter around her shoulders and slipping the page into her pocket.

"Clara?" the Doctor's voice pierced the still, distant and cheerful. She barely had time to plaster her face with a fake smile as he came bounding into the room with intense enthusiasm, "I've worked it all out," he announced his hands clasped together and before she could reply he went on, "you hit the reality eradicator switch—why are you in here?" he looked confused and a little embarrassed.

Clara quickly grabbed his hand, pulling the door closed behind them, "Got lost," She answered dismissively, her heart beating fast in her chest, "what were you saying?"

The expression of wounded confusion left his face as it lit up, "you hit the reality eradicator switch and we got thrown into a pocket dimension."

Clara frowned at his wide grin, her stomach twisted into a nervous knot, "Why are you so happy about that?" she asked.

The Doctor laughed at her, "Because this has happened to me before and I know how to get out. We just have to wait for the battery to charge up."

"And how long will it take for the battery to charge up again?" Clara slipped her hand into his as they began to stroll up the corridor.

"No more than a day or two...probably. Why did come down here anyway?" He responded distractedly.

Clara stopped in her tracks causing him to jerk backwards; "a day?" she asked completely ignoring his question, "really is that all?"

"Probably even less than that if she'll be cooperative," He smiled at her impressed expression that she usually kept so hidden from him. Clara, seeing him looking, immediately frowned slightly at him, the buried smile still tugging at her lips, "Don't worry Clara, I've got emergency supplies," the Doctor assured her and then he turned his head towards hers, "so what were you doing all the way down here?" He was nervous, she could tell, like he was trying to find out exactly what she'd seen

"I was exploring," she replied dismissively, "I like your silver tree."

The Doctor gave her his schoolboy grin and she laughed at his unabashed exuberance, "it's called a phoenix birch. It's one of the last in existence. I saved it from becoming firewood and it thanked me by planting itself in my ship."

"Interesting," Clara was only half listening and before he could go on she interrupted, "we'll definitely only be here for a day or two?"

He looked a little deflated at her lack of enthusiasm for the tree, but nodded at her question.

"The Doctor and Clara stuck in the snogbox for 48 hours, however will we pass the time?" Clara folded her arms, raising an eyebrow suggestively and watched as he struggled to find the correct answer, his arms mirroring hers in crossing themselves across his chest.

"It's not a snogbox" came the straggled reply.

"Whatever you say, Doctor"


	5. Chapter 5

Emergency supplies turned out to be two cans of beans, 3 tea bags, a half-opened box of jammy dodgers and four stale custard creams. Clara held them out to the Doctor, "baked beans and biscuits for dinner" she announced. He smiled queasily at the pile and looked back at her, "just biscuits for me."

Clara crossed her arms across her chest, "a grown man can't live on a diet of jammy dodgers and custard creams."

"Absolutely true," The Doctor nodded his head in agreement, "but I don't count as a grown-up."

Clara looked at him strangely, her head tipped to the side as she struggled to prise open the lid of the beans.

"And you don't either," the Doctor continued, "How many grown-ups do you know who would run away with a mad man with a spaceship? Or fight an army of Cybermen? Or go the edge of time itself in a box? Or crash said box?"

"I...didn't...run...away...with you," Clara grunted with effort as the seized top finally gave way, spilling the contents off the counter.

The Doctor swooped up and in one swift movement, brushed the sticky mess into the bin. "Oh well, what a shame," he said, unabashed glee written right across his face, and went across the kitchen to pour warm water into the teapot, stirring in the teabags with a flick of a teaspoon. Clara settled herself in his chair, her legs swinging.

The Doctor enjoyed teatime, "it's the best time of the day, I try to have it at least four times daily," he explained as he emptied all the biscuits onto a china plate and placed it along with the teapot and two mugs on a tray. Clara wiped up the final smear of beans across the tabletop and followed him into the library across the hall.

"So what do you have against baked beans?" She asked as she sat down next to him.

The Doctor handed her a steaming mug and took a bite of a biscuit, "they are _evil_," he complained, spraying crumbs over his waistcoat.

She laughed, "Here sits the most feared creature in all the cosmos."

"And don't you forget it." He replied, his eyes landed on hers, light green fathomless pools that lasted forever. How she could get lost in those eyes, sink further and further into them and never reach the bottom. She blinked and broke her gaze, pulling herself out of her thoughts, slightly flustered.

She dunked a custard cream into her tea absent-mindedly until the Doctor nudged her side with an elbow, "penny for your thoughts."

Clara glanced over at him, "I wasn't thinking," she lied, "why do I need to be thinking just because I'm not talking?" her defensiveness made her speak sharper than she had intended. She smiled across at him guiltily.

"Clara Oswald, you are always thinking and besides you've lost your custard cream," Clara looked down to see her hand was still griping the now sodden biscuit which had broken in half and was now floating in her tea. The Doctor smiled at her fondly, "what is it then?" he asked.

Clara leaned over and set down her tea on the coffee table in front of them and turned her body towards his. She looked down twisted her mum's ring around her finger nervously, hair falling forward to cover her eyes.

She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the tattered page, "What is this?" she couldn't look at him.

She heard him swallow, "where did you get that?" He asked quietly

"in the room at the end of the corridor."

He nodded once, and then again as though he couldn't summon any words to say to her.

Clara raised her eyes, glancing up at his face. He turned his gaze to her face, an expression of such deep, naked sadness exposed in his that she felt her very soul ache. She realised it was a mistake, asking him about the mysterious Amelia, a push too far. But then he looked at her and he took a breath.

"Mad, glorious Amy Pond; I was her imaginary friend" his words were detached, as though he was reading out loud from a story book, "and she flew away with me one night to see the stars. Not unlike you." His eyes glowed with past memories, "she saved a star-whale in outer space, gave hope to the greatest painter who ever lived, rewrote history and lived in it. Amy Pond. We ripped the universe apart and sewed it together again, visited planets, fought the Daleks...Amy and Rory. Rory Pond waited 2000 years for her outside a box, protecting her, never sleeping, never ceasing loving her; the last centurion and the girl who waited. They stayed for as long as they could and they were my family. Mismatched and perfect, but they, like everyone else, faded from me. I blinked and they were gone. Lost forever," His eyes danced in the recollections like a flame, kindling bright and gladly above the sadness. He had let go of her hand as though reminding him of her presence would force him back to the anguish, "I could never replace her, will never have another like her, like any of them."

And then he caught her stare, as though just realising he had spoken out loud, her cheeks were tear-stained. This honesty of unprotected pain was painted over his face making him look ancient and unbelievably young simultaneously. She felt a wall coming down, the barricade that he wrapped himself in crumbling to dust. He gripped her hands like a child, his eyes pleading with her, begging her to acknowledge. For the first time Clara realised just how many things those eyes must have seen. How much pain and demise there was in the universe, how everything must and would end in time for him to see it with those heavy eyes.

"What is that room?" She whispered, brows clenched as she looked up at the face of a man she'd never seen before.

"Oh you know. A place for stuff. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, humany-wumany stuff. Old stuff, broken stuff...lots of...stuff" he said with a false cheeriness that suddenly masked all the sadness. But Clara saw the unhappiness beneath the smoke screen.

"Please, Doctor" Clara interrupted him softly, "just tell me." She pleaded leaning forward and grasping his hands in hers. He sighed and looked at their entangled fingers sadly, his face tired, eyes dark and heavy. He closed them and suddenly Clara saw just how old he was. There was a vulnerability that she had peeled back and exposed, leaving him raw and broken


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: short short short chapter haha and it ends quite abruptly but the next chapter was my favourite one to write and is full of heart-achy moments so it'll be worth it, i promise.**

"In one thousand years I have never taken one photograph, because they make me too sad," he explained plainly, in the same matter-of-fact tone he had used when he told her he was an alien "you see, Clara, a photograph captures the shell of a memory and freezes it in a case ceaselessly, leaving it stuck in the abyss of past tense as a ghost of what used to be." A shadow passed over his face, darkening it further until he was almost unrecognisable again. Clara pressed her palm to his cheek to make sure he was still there, his skin felt like paper against her fingers "After a while, a photograph fades and so does the memory. But my memories are all I have. Books with broken spines and missing pages, gold-rimmed glasses, burnt out vortex manipulators, decorated fob watches, red and blue bowties. These are my memories. I don't want to see a whisper of what was, I want to remember exactly how it felt, what it looked like, each of my shining moments, the small instants of utter happiness the universe allows me before it snatches them from me forever.

"Life is a pile of many things, good and bad. And I've had so many of bad, too many to count. So I keep the good, stored up in my TARDIS," silent tears fell from his eyes, falling onto her lap as she watched feeling completely helpless. She cupped his cheek as he had done hers so many times before and he pressed it closer, holding it there, skin on skin. "But a thousand years is a long time, the bad times, the ones I've lost are too many, they build up until they are all I see. So I am selfish. I push onwards, in a mad dash across the sky, running away from my past, grabbing at whoever will come with me, forcing myself to forget when they leave. I greedily, thoughtlessly, mess up every life that ends up tangled with mine just so I can have someone to impress and look at me as though I matter.

"I see so many who are so important, so many who don't see it themselves. In nine hundred years of time and space I haven't met anybody who wasn't important. You're the ones who matter, the ones I want to hold onto before you are gone." His face crumpled into her hand, coating it with silvery tears, "You, Clara, are my beacon of hope, my light at the end of every tunnel. You're here," through his tears he pointed at his chest, "etched onto my hearts. All of them. All of you...and I suppose in the end, you break my heart." he broke off and reached forward, caressing her face, outlining each contour and rise.

"So in answer to your question, that room is my past, my memories, the chaos of everything that is behind me, stored right in the very corners of my mind. In there lies everyone I've ever loved and lost, each triumph and downfall, every single item that reminds me of what I used to be and what I have become."

The silence fell and then Clara spoke, her voice nearly echoing up to the domed ceiling, "I want to go home."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: this was definitely my favourite chapter to write, it's cute and sad and fluffy and is my headcannon. I don't ant to spoil it my rambling on and on so enjoy and review my dear whoufflepuffs **

"What? Why? Clara? Please don't say that..." he trailed off, tripping over his words, pausing to find the correct words to say, but she was racing ahead, her mind working like clockwork.

"But Doctor, look at you. Look at what they've done to you. You are a ghost, an ancient ghost running away from other ghosts who you used to know," tears were leaking from her eyes as she looked up at him. He couldn't read her face. It was full of everything.

"No please, Clara no,"

"But it's true isn't it? We make you into this sad man, this tired broken old man who has nothing left. I...I don't want to...I can't hurt you like that." Clara said "And then when I'm gone, when I've added to your pile of bad things...I don't want to be a ghost. I can be replaced, Doctor, trust me. But I can't take the responsibility to cause you so much pain. Or any more pain, you already have far too much for one man." She spoke calmly, her voice a perfect mask for what was written on her face

"You can't leave me. Clara please, my Clara. You're my impossible girl." He was pleading with her, his hands reaching out, but she leapt off the sofa like his touch had burnt her, and turned to face him. He saw the hurt on her face, the confusion, the desperation, the insecurity.

"Why am I this impossible girl? You're always talking, muttering about how I don't make sense, saying these things and I don't understand. I'm ordinary, I'm average. Normal Clara Oswald, 24 years old from Lanarkshire, England, Planet Earth. That's who I am, not an enigma or a puzzle to solve. Completely and utterly ordinary."

"Clara, you don't understand. You are not ordinary. You are so far beyond ordinary, completely extraordinary." He spoke with such certainty, a flicker of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Then make me understand! Come on. It's just you and me now. No time or space to get in the way. Explain Chinboy, because I can't think why I am any different from every other person back home. Tell me, why am I impossible?" she spoke quietly and with such helplessness that he grabbed her hand, pulling her down to his level. He held her head in his hands and smiled. It was a smile filled to the brim with scars and wounded recollections and burning so bright with every ounce of hope he had within his brilliant mind. It was a smile of such truth and comfort that as he held her, crying in front of him, she smiled back, a wan smile that crept slowly with uncertainty along her lips. But it was brighter that the Gallifreyian sky.

"Clara, you're the impossible girl because you came to me when everything was dark and made the stars come out again. You rescued me from drowning in the blackness and waited until it passed, watching as the night faded and the sun rose. You made me see in colour again, reminded me how to be good when everything else is so bad. You brought back the moon and painted it silver. You are the impossible girl because; in spite of everything, you make me better. You made me better when it was impossible to. You took my broken hearts in your hands and stitched them together with the essence of you. You made me whole again by doing nothing at all, but being my Clara. I need no-one else, just you. And as long as you're here my life can be a pile of good things," she fell into his arms sobbing, wrapping her arms tight around him. He held her there, trying to ignore her nails digging into his back through his thin shirt and the damp patch which was spilling out across his shoulder.

Clara pulled back and shook her head, her tear-stained eyes meeting his, "Just a pile of good things eh? Like crashing the TARDIS into a pocket dimension and losing power?" She gave a small smile, "I don't know how long I'll stay, maybe forever, maybe just until you don't need me anymore, but know this, you are the best friend I could ever have, and don't you dare hold in all this...sadness from me. I don't want you to be haunted by ghosts in your own head or have them eating you alive, because I've been there remember? With my mum. And perhaps that isn't the same as 900 years of loss, but it's a loss all the same. And don't treat me like a ghost or a memory just yet, we're not done with this, Chinboy, but I'm not here to stand-in for anyone or try and replace any of them."

He cupped her cheek, smearing her dried tears along her face with his thumb. She reached upward and touched a strand of his hair above his forehead, rolling it between her fingers. He leaned down; eyes closed and pressed a kiss on the space above her left eyebrow. He rested his head against hers and they're eyes met, deep green against arcane hazel, "you are not second-rate Clara; you are beautiful and brilliant; stop acting like you're nothing. You are the only mystery worth solving, the sole reason for the sun to come out. So very alive and so full – of everything so good and golden."

Clara tilted her head upwards tentatively, slowly pressing her lips brushing against the slightly rutted surface of his and waited. "but you're still so sad." She whispered softly.

"Yes, but the sad man and his impossible girl in a mad dash amongst the stars," He breathed warm against her cheek, "it's not a sad story, don't you see? It's a love-" She caught the last word with her lips and they pushed together. Gently at first, pulling each other closer, kissing deeper. Lips against skin, hands wrapping around, pulling nearer, holding onto whatever they had left. Her lips tasted like tears and his like tea and crumbs and it felt like all the sadness in the world stopped in the small moment of elation. Clara felt the drumbeat of his hearts against her chest and placed her hands over each one, "you're here as well," he said, "You're the very centre of me, holding it all together, written right into the sky itself." He closed his eyes, spilling more silver tears from beneath his lids. Clara wrapped her arms around his neck, catching his tears on her hair so it glistened like dew. He gripped at her tightly as though scared she would crumble away in front of him. There they stayed, holding each other together, clasping hands and wiping away teardrops.

The Doctor paused, hesitating and them his lips reached down, balancing themselves on hers, supple and light and then he pressed in. Tentatively, slowly, like a child learning to read for the first time, and then he pushed harder, pulling her into him, caressing her cheeks, her arms, her shoulders and finally her waist. Clara peered at him through half-closed lids, the tears had dried on his cheeks, the only trace a silver shimmer by the dim light. And then, with a nip of her lower lip, he retreated slightly, lips parted. The Doctor rested him head against her forehead, and then everything was still.

Everything stayed motionless, like it was stuck, locked in a moment until Clara spoke, shattering the silence, "tell me a story," she said and rested her head on his lap and closing her eyes. The Doctor held his arms in the air, unsure of where to put them until Clara reached for his hand and held it between hers, "tell me a story about the man who fell from the stars."

He patted her head, "did I ever tell you about Barcelona? The planet, not the city. The dogs there have two noses, imagine, two noses! They tell that joke about four times a day there and everybody still laughs. I made a joke about me having two noses once, and one about me having no head. Or two heads. Imagine me with two heads now, eh? But Barcelona, they don't even speak Spanish or any language really. They just sort of grunt. The sky is always pink and the grass is..." as he spoke her felt a draught against his knee and peering over at the figure curled up against him, he saw that she'd fallen asleep and was breathing deeply against his leg, her small body rising and falling with each inhalation.

The Doctor smiled at her and gently moved her head off his lap and onto the sofa, wrapping her in a blanket. He watched her for a moment, captivated by her simplicity and complexity that made her exactly what he needed, and then slowly, but resolutely leant forwards to kiss her forehead. He had always wondered why he was so drawn to showing his endearment by resting his lips there, on the space above her eyebrows. He lingered breathing in the smell soap and apple shampoo, and muttered, "it's always been a love story, you know. Soufflé girl and Chin boy off to see the world," he muttered and raised his sonic screwdriver at the lamps lining the room, dimming them to candlelight.

In the faint glow, the sleeping figure smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

.

Clara opened her eyes the next morning to find the sofa rather a lot smaller than she had remembered the night before, her blanket not quite as thick. It seemed, even when she wasn't meant to be functioning, the TARDIS found ways to terrorize her.

She sat up, the blanket slipping off her, and stretched her arms out, yawning. She looked around the room and then, hearing a crash from down the hall, followed the noise out of the library. Which turned out to have conveniently switched places from the night before. Clara sighed, glaring up at the walls of the ship, muttering about how she hadn't done anything to personally victimise it.

Another crash roused her from her silent war with the walls and pulling her blanket around her shoulders, she followed the noise to the new location of the kitchen.

She stood in the doorway, quite unsure how to approach that was before her. The Doctor stood, stooped over a saucepot, egg yolk smeared across his cheek and a large chef's hat perched on top of his flop of hair. Clara cleared her throat, startling him and causing him to spill water all over the hob.

"morning" she smiled and perched herself the counter beside him, and giving him a questionable glance with her eyebrows.

"ah Clara, good morning," he answered, lightly, childishly, like the ancient man with the broken soul had disappeared, replacing him with this ball of energy and joy. Clara knew, for certain now, that this was his mask, his method of coping and so she played along, "and what are you cooking Monsieur la Doctor?" she asked peering over his shoulder into the pot.

"Omelettes!" he announced with a flourish of his arms, knocking over a pepper shaker in the process. Clara caught it and set it upright.

"Ok," she said, "how come we have eggs this morning and we didn't last night?" he looked at her sheepishly. Clara feigned a gasp, hitting him across the head with a nearby tea towel, she laughed at him.

He smiled, a ghost of dejection passed over his face, before vanishing again as though it was a trick of the light, "rule number one, the Doctor lies," he said, "especially about available snacks and beverages and besides, eggs taste better at breakfast."

Clara watched him. She saw him more clearly now. How he looked sad when he thought she wasn't looking, how he said and did everything a little too much animation, his eyes always a little too bright. She could feel his forced cheeriness more than ever and suddenly she despised what she had pushed him to say the night before. How he would never be the same care-free alien she had thought she'd known. And yet, despite it all, Clara felt closer to him than before, like this act was now a mutual agreement. An easier option.

And before she could mulled anything more over in her mind or marinate any more thoughts, the Doctor pushed a plate of omelette into her hands with a, "ta-dah," before waltzing out through the doorway.

Clara smirked down at her food, jumped down from the countertop and hurried after him "where are we going?" she asked, "the library?"

The Doctor turned his head towards hers, "we ate there last night,"

"yes," Clara nodded slowly, "but does that mean we can't eat there now?"

The Doctor smiled, "as you very well know, the TARDIS is a whole adventure in itself and it has more rooms than you can imagine."

She rolled her eyes, "I know that all right," she sighed, more to the walls than to him.

When she looked back to the Doctor he was almost at the end of the corridor, he turned back to her grinning, "then why should we eat every meal in the same room? Come along, P-," he caught himself midsentence before finishing cautiously, "Clara,"

Clara wrinkled her nose, "How far are you planning on this hike being because my omelette is getting cold?"

"Not far now," He smiled, eyes twinkling, "it's a surprise."


	9. Chapter 9

Clara had never known whether she liked surprises or not, but with the Doctor, a surprise was always something that was filled with incalculable wonder, so she followed him, unquestioning. Down the twisting corridors they went, filled with so many dead ends that even the Doctor got frustrated at the TARDIS for her blatant lack of cooperation.

When they finally reached the corridor he had been aiming for, Clara felt her heart sink with familiarity. It was the corridor she had explored the day before, the hallway of locked doors.

He led her passed the memory room and the dozens of others that she had attempted to break into yesterday. She struggled to keep up, her plate of now lukewarm egg held out in front of her. And then he stopped. Right outside the first room.

Clara raised her eyebrows at him, "all this for the tree room?" she said sarcastically, "I thought I was getting a surprise, not a lesson on photosynthesis." She pouted and he knew that had her hands not been full she would have crossed her arms in protest.

"Ah! But I already told you, it's not just any tree. It's a phoenix tree and if I've timed it correctly..." he paused to look at his watch, "yes, yes, that should be about right,"

Clara watched him, unimpressed; "the time is right for what?" she was suspicious, but that feeling was in her stomach. The feeling she got when something was going to happen. Nothing necessarily bad or good, but something worth waiting for and remembering, it was light fluttering she usually got around the Doctor. A mixture of anticipation and nervousness churning together inside her. She looked to him, "come on then." She nudged against the door with her hip, pushing against it until it clicked open.

"WAIT," the Doctor shouted, making her stop, her face terrified.

"what?" her eyes were wide

"It's a surprise, you have to close your eyes,"

Clara sighed at him and balanced her plate on one hand. She looked at him, he nodded his head and sighing again she closed the eyes. Secretly she loved this. The not knowing what was going to happen, the excitement which bubbled inside her like she was eight years old again.

Life with the Doctor, this wonderful, mad man made you realise you were alive. How you aren't alive until you feel it in your gut; and if you feel nothing, there is no point. How running down corridors that twisted and moved, living with two broken hearts, how crashing into a pocket dimension – it was all so much better than living like a ghost as a half-life in the shadows. Life with the Doctor was electric and she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Her Doctor.

He took her plate from her hands and tugged her gently through the doorway. A warm pale light hit her Clara's eyelids, like the sun at dawn, silken and untainted, "open," and she did.

Light flooded into her face in a blur of colour, surrounding her in a light fluffy glow, illuminating her with pale pinks, blues, indigos and nectarine. It swirled around her getting bolder as she walked, mouth hanging open, neck tipped upwards, arms outstretched to touch it. The centre of the room, where the tree had stood, was nothing but a rupture of light, pure white and brilliant. It was captivating and she laughed outloud, clasping her hands under her chin.

"What is it?"

The Doctor was at her side, "it's a phoenix tree," he repeated, "when it is time for it to die it turns silver and sheds all its leaves and then it regenerates into something more magnificent than ever before,"

"It's beautiful," she felt for his hand.

"it is, isn't it?" he felt her slip his fingers into his, "good enough view for breakfast don't you think?" he let go, slipping his fingers out of her clasped hand, turning his back.

Clara could feel the wall coming up between them again. Like he wanted to avoid any conversation with her that reminded him of what she knew, like her whole being now reminded him of those he had lost.

She turned around and saw that he had set up a picnic blanket in the hall and was leaning against the door opposite. He motioned to her to come over, patting the space beside him, "it's safer to watch this from a distance."

Clara dropped down next to him, picked up a fork and began poking her eggs, her gaze fixed on the explosion of light beams in front of her, "I'll never get used to this," she said

The Doctor smiled sadly into himself, "that's what they all say"

"This is all happening in a little blue box in the sky, everything in here is squeezed into this tiny space, but it's not tiny" Clara turned to him, "why is it so much bigger on the inside?"

The Doctor looked at her, "it's ancient timelord technology, but it is taken from one simple idea,"

She looked at him expectantly

"It's based on people. Everyone is bigger on the inside,"

"On us?" she was surprised

"Yes," he smiled, "Every little person has something so huge inside of them that if they weren't bigger inside they would be bigger that the universe itself. Someone once asked me what you looked like me, how you must look so tiny and I said that you looked like giants. You have so many layers, so many mysteries wrapped up in each and every one of your cells that makes you unique in the universe."

Clara rested her head against his shoulder, "I like it when you tell me things," she sighed sleepily, smiling, looking right into the blazing light across from her, taking it in, absorbing the sparkling gleam, until "ouch my head."

The Doctor turned to her sharply, "what is it? Clara?"

"Why is my head hurting? OW OW." Her hands flew up to her face, covering it, her eyes scrunched shut, "Doctor make it stop, please make it stop."

He fumbled for the sonic, his hands clammy in his panic and scanned her all over, up and down, under her lids. The reading flashed up and the Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, a fist balled on the bridge of his nose, "why why why...why her...stupid, I'm so stupid, unbearably stupid" he moaned into his wrist

"What is it?" Clara asked him breathless, her own eyes crumpling in pain. She was curled up against the wall, pushing her head into it to try to suppress the burning in her mind.

He clutched her head between his hands gently, his palms holding her on either side of her face, "I'm going to have to enter your mind ok Clara?" she was shaking in his hands, tears streaming down her face, "I need remove the regeneration photon energy that you've absorbed or it'll burn you up,"

She screamed, incomprehensible babbled falling out of her mouth, and then, "please, just make it stop." She was sobbing, right on the verge of consciousness as he gripped her.

**AN: a cruel cliffhanger I know! but the next chapter is the last and I want to drag it out for you...if anyone is still reading. thank you for all your lovely comments and encouragements that you've given me, I am so very grateful and pleasantly surprised that anyone actually cares about my little story, but enough now, I'll leave the soppy-ness until the end of tomorrow's chapter.**


	10. Chapter 10

She was going to be just fine. His impossible girl, his Clara. She was always okay, bouncing back with a snide comment and a grin. Except, this had happened before. With another face and another companion. And she was fine, absolutely fantastic. but he had taken the flame from her mind and allowed it to burn him up instead.

And he couldn't go. Not yet. Not now. Not after last night, when he finally told her, Clara, what had been gradually thawing the silver ice in his hearts. That she was the answer, the solution to the emptiness. She made him feel so full, so alive and bright. It just wasn't fair, but then, when was it ever fair? The universe doesn't care. That's what he had learnt from his time in the sky. She was going to stay with him forever. Chinboy and Souffle girl. But now it was him or her and there was no contest.

He stroked the apple shaped cheeks in his hands, "Concentrate Clara. The light, you must block it out, push it away, think of cool navy skies and grey raindrops, think of Sundays and Thursday afternoons, of gray and black and mauve and indigo."

He could feel it, the fire, moving from her eyes into his. It was starting to hurt, but he kept going, murmuring encouragement to her, willing her to safety, "Come on Clara, push it away. Chinboy and my Impossible girl together or not at all. Oh my Clara, not this time, this time I save you, just for the hell of it."

A bright pain like white hot wire pressed against his forehead burst through, covering everything, blinding him. It burned hotter and sharper, making his head throb, filling it until he felt it would burst. He cried out in pain, hanging onto the very edges of everything...and then it stopped. The burning ceased and everything was cool and tranquil. There was no sound, no movement. Nothing. The Doctor opened his eyes and blinked down at Clara who looked up at him, her face confused.

"What happened?" She asked, looking around her.

The room across the hall had vanished, the tree, the burning, everything was gone. The Doctor moved across, holding the sonic, scanning where the doorway had been moments before.

Clara watched him, "Well?"

He adjusted a knob on the screwdriver and read out loud in disbelief, "It was the TARDIS, she saved us,"

"How could she—"

"She absorbed all of the regeneration energy to her core, saving the burning tree in her centre in a timelock."

"Does that mean she's working again?"

The Doctor spun on his heel, grabbing Clara by the shoulders and dropping a kiss on her forehead, "Oh Clara you beauty!" He ran then, back into the console room, his coat flying out behind him. She ran with him, nearly taking a wrong turn as he sped ahead nearly out of sight.

When she reached the console room, he was at the circuit board, a grin glowing on his face, "Welcome back Sexy" he called to the giant cogs on the ceiling which flashed blue in greeting.

Clara paused in the doorway, smiling sadly at him. He turned, his eyes dancing in his face as they met hers,

"Come on Captain," he motioned to her and she walked across, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, of course I'm fine, why wouldn't I be fine?"

He laughed into himself, "because you just absorbed regeneration energy and it should have killed you, but you managed to send it into the TARDIS battery store - well, it's not really a battery store, but think of it like battery store – and you saved us both," He touched her jaw, "impossible," he whispered, his face nearing hers.

Clara stuck out her chin, "not impossible, just a little unlikely," she breathed, her breath warm against his face. They neared together, closer until there was just a narrow gap between their parted lips. And then in a duck of his head, there was no space at all. He pushed his against hers with such certainty and tenderness, that she let out a little gasp. He smiled against her lips, leaning into her, holding her chin with his fingertips. Clara opened her eyes and met his; a galaxy of colours danced on the surface, golden and bright, the deep sea of olive green sadness hidden far beneath, "hey spaceman," she whispered, "is this what we do when you're not saving the world?"

"Is this what you want to do when we're not saving the world?" he asked. She bit her lip and nodded once, stretching up on tiptoe until she was almost at level with his nose. She gazed fully into his face, a grin tugging at her mouth leaning in again, slowly until "it _is_ a snogbox," she laughed at him, flitting away again.

She stood back, arms folded, "this _is_ what you do isn't it? You lure people away with a crook of your finger and the speech about all of time and space and then you make use of your flying snogging booth," she teased

The Doctor raised his eyebrows back at her, crossing his own arms across his chest, leaning against the control panel, awkwardly "only the people who are..."

"people who are what?"

"...special" he finished, his voice gravely serious

Clara felt her cheeks flush pink, her joking masquerade expression slipping. She opened her mouth slightly, waiting for the correct words to form on her tongue, "I'm special?" she asked,

The Doctor looked at her across the room, "Of course you're special; you are the only mystery worth solving," he moved towards her, his hand half outstretched, almost touching her cheek. Clara raised her hand to his and moved it away, clasping it with her fingers and swinging it by her side.

She smiled up at him, "better not let me drive home" she quipped lightly

"I really don't think this little adventure has improved your relationship with the dear old TARDIS,"

"Oi, I thought you said I'd revived her and recharged her whole battery," she was pouting again

"Not quite a battery, but a bit like a battery, I suppose-" he didn't know how to deal with the pouting

"I saved her" she argued

"Yes, but only after you'd crashed her into pocket dimension and drained all her energy," he retorted back at her

Clara screwed up her nose, "sorry about that,"

The Doctor squeezed her hand, "well, I suppose I have to forgive you don't I?" he smiled

"You have no absolutely no choice in the matter Chinboy," her eyes glittered

A churning of cogs and flashing of mechanical lights pulled their gaze upward, the TARDIS whirred angrily above them causing Clara to duck her head. The Doctor called up the giant mechanism sheepishly, "sorry dear"

"What is she upset about now?" Clara grumbled in spite of herself

"She doesn't approve" the Doctor replied vaguely, motioning the air with his arms

"will she ever approve?" Clara sighed

He looked at her, smiling bashfully and shook his head

"Hah! Well Chinboy, rescue me from your disapproving spaceship and show me the stars,"

The Doctor grinned at her, his face the expression of a 9 year old schoolboy. He pulled a red lever, the familiar humming began and Clara held onto the banister tightly, waiting.

He paused, hesitantly.

"What are you waiting for?" she called over the motorised din of cogs and dials.

He pivoted on the spot and held out a hand, "I'm waiting for the Captain,"

"What?" Clara looked at him in disbelief, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. She looked at him, his hand, the whirring alien ship surrounding her, "are you sure?" she asked cautiously

"Impossibly so," he reached forward and wrapped his fingers tightly around hers

"but she doesn't like m-," he pushed a finger against her lips

"Come on Captain, are you ready for a race across the sky?"

She grinned at him and then raced forward, leaning over the control panel, "impossibly so," she replied slamming her hand onto the orange button.

* * *

The box gyrated, whirring into nothingness, fading gently into the night, leaving an echo to be swallowed up into darkened nothingness. Inside, the impossible girl and the sad man were bathed in bright blue light, illuminated in their tiny corner of the universe. They held onto each other tight as they stumbled across the sky, in a chase from moon to star.

_Eternity was in our lips and eyes,  
Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor  
But was a race of heaven._

***THE END***

**AN: so there you have it, what happens when the Doctor lets Clara be the boss of TARDIS. **

**I'm going to get all soppy and nostalgic now so beware:**

**I want to express how unconditionally grateful and touched I am by every single one of the comments about my writing, not just here but on tumblr and twitter as well. I never realised how easy it was to get into this and you've already inspired me to work on more. This is the longest thing I've ever written in all my 15 years and I'm so thrilled that it went down well!**

**I wrote it by lamplight with a cup of tea and headphones at night, unsure of whether it was ever going to see the light of day, and every single one of you that has even _glanced_ at this, gave me the confidence I needed to continue. And who knows maybe in ten years time I'll be a published writer and you can say you were the very first ones that cared. **

**So I'm going to leave you now, to go on with your life and hopefully, maybe I'll see you again here one day.**

**oh God, that sounded really sentimental, sorry**

***the verse at the very end of chapter 10 is from Shakespeare's Anthony & Cleopatra* **

**tumblr: **

**twitter: emiliafoxy**


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